Journal
by tellmamatobuggeroff
Summary: Kurt accidently reads Blaine's journal and discovers his secret, dark past.
1. Accidently

The easiest way to find out about someone, to find out the cold, hard truth about someone, that is, is to look through their journal. In a journal, no one censors what they say, what they feel, or what they want. It's all there, all of it.

What's in my journal, you may wonder. Well, quite simply, I have me in there. I have favorite songs written down, whole pages filled with doodles that mean more to me than you'd think, and I have actual journal entries. Sometimes, as I listen to a song, I catch a lyric that just becomes my world and I write it in a creative, fancy way across a page. Then, I listen to the whole song over and over again, catching other little snatches that fill my body and mind with joy and hope, and the only way I know how to express that is to either sing about it or write down little things here and there, little drawings that represent everything and nothing. My journal is black and leather and warm and familiar and worn and ruffled and slightly larger than it should be from the many nights I've spent going through the pages.

After I transferred to McKinley, I wrote in that journal more than ever. My black pen scratched deeper into the pages than ever before as I traced one lyric over and over again. I was rooming with Blaine, and although we were 'just friends' I wanted so much more than that. I could never tell him that; I could never risk losing him, but whenever I saw him, I just felt the need to hug him.

He was almost too perfect. So quiet and shy one minute, and then laughing with me loudly about an outfit in _Vogue_ that we both found either hilarious or so utterly amazing that laughing was the only thing we _could_ do. He didn't like to gel down his hair. He didn't like cold fruit, but he hated warm applesauce. He preferred Aquafina over any other water, and he never listened when I protested that all water tasted the same because it was _water_ and water didn't have a taste. He claimed that making his bed in the morning made going back to sleep at night more enjoyable because he always felt like he was unwrapping a present. He had an overwhelming obsession with Harry Potter, Red Vines, and Snape/Hermione fanfictions. He had an older half brother and two younger siblings, one a girl, one a boy.

He _was_ perfect.

At least I thought he was.

I found his journal on a Saturday afternoon when he was home. I hadn't gone back home this weekend because I had an important AP Biology test on Monday that I was studying for all weekend. At least, I was supposed to be studying, but I had found _this_ instead.

The opening and initial reading of his journal was completely on accident. I honestly thought that the journal I had found was mine. It looked so like mine it was sort of scary. Black, faded leather covered the pages that looked like they'd been turned and scribbled on so many times that it was almost like the book was his closest confidant.

Anyway, I had found the book and was originally just going to tuck it away, but I thought I might take the time to write down some of my thoughts. I didn't like writing in my journal with people near me, and when I was here, Blaine usually was too. I flipped open the journal to where there _should_ have been blank, white paper, had it been mine. But instead, I found 'I'd sooner buy defying gravity' scribbled in the middle of a sheet with a rough sketch of a pigeon flying away and several other sketches. At first, I thought I might be losing my mind and that I'd maybe written in it and forgotten, but that didn't make any sense to me. I didn't forget things _ever_. Okay, well almost ever.

So, in my confusion I flipped through the book some more, attempting to discover just what trick was being played on me. To my utter frustration, I found no answers and even more questions. All across the pages were scribbles and lyrics and journal entries. I flipped nearer to the beginning and found another journal entry that went something like this:

_**July 14, 2008**_

_**I feel so alone right now, and I feel like there's not much to do about it. I thought that because the school year was over, I would be free from them for at least the summer, but no. They've found me, and I'm so frightened. Dad would tell me to stop whining and confront them, but I think Dad and I both know that I'm much too much of a coward to do anything about or to them.**_

I frowned thoughtfully. This handwriting was really messy and unfamiliar. I thought hard about the handwriting I had seen so far at Dalton and couldn't match this up with a face. Attempting to get more samples, I flipped to the next page.

_**Another sucker for a game kids like to play.**_

What was this? And more important, what game was the person talking about. My mind flashed to Blaine for a moment, and the thought that this could be his crossed my mind, but I pushed it away. Blaine hadn't been bullied this much. There's no way these pain filled entries could have come from him.

**_September 3, 2008_**

**_Something's happened. I'm being transferred to Dalton, and I'm not coming back. I can't take this anymore. Why does it matter so much that I am what I am? Why is being gay such a problem? Isn't love just as pure, no matter who it's directed toward? Why would those guys care who I want to be with? It's not like I'm going to try to turn them gay. That's what they're so afraid of, that's why they did what they did. Because apparently being gay is like a virus and it spreads. I'm not a virus._**

**_I'm not._**

I swallowed hard as I finished reading this entry. It was more toward the middle of the journal now, not so close to the beginning and I had a horrible suspicion that this was, in fact, Blaine's.

'No shit, Sherlock.' My mind sneered at me. 'What, did you think the toilet fairies dropped this off?'

My stomach rolled and I could feel bile rise. If this _was _Blaine's than I had just read some extremely personal stuff. I had just betrayed him in the worse way possible.

Journals are closer to being the window to the soul than eyes are, in my mind. I had just gone through Blaine's soul, and there was no way I could just go on casually with life. I would have to tell him I read, and I would have to apologize.

* * *

Blaine got back to Dalton at around five o'clock on Sunday. I was dreading this moment, this moment that I normally cherished. The moment when he would come into the room, his weekend bag clutched in his left hand, his hair loose and curly, and his casual clothes on. Today he was in a pair of black, not-quite-skinny jeans and had a simple, white t-shirt on. His pink sunglasses were, as usual, parked on top of his curly head of hair.

"Hi, Kurt!" He said with an almost shy grin towards me. I sat on the edge of my bed, fairly certain that I was paler than normal.

"Hi." I managed to croak.

"Are you okay? You look a little pale." He chuckled. I winced inwardly, wondering if I would ever get to hear his deep, male laugh that tugged on my heartstrings after this night.

"Yes... no… yes…. No…. just sit down, okay?" I muttered, placing my head in my hands and sighing. I could practically feel his concern radiating across the admittedly small room at me.

"What's wrong?" He said, dark brown eyes peering at me inquiringly. I sat up a bit straighter, reached to my left side, and pulled open the drawer of my bedside table. From within, I pulled out his black journal. He blinked at it, and then blinked again in confusion when I also brought mine out of the same drawer.

"This one", I began, lightly shaking the one in my left hand, "is yours. This one", I continued, lightly shaking the one in my right hand, "is mine. You left yours here when you went home for the weekend and I found it on the floor. I thought I had somehow misplaced it, even though I hadn't taken it out of my drawer since last weekend and I wanted to make a new entry in mine, so I opened it up to where there should have been blank pages and found that it had been scribbled in. I was sort of confused, so I flipped to the front and read a bit. I didn't know it was yours until it mentioned something about being gay, and then I grabbed one of the worksheets from Spanish that you had thrown away and matched up the handwriting." I passed Blaine's journal to a stunned looking boy.

"I'm really, really sorry I read it Blaine. Really, really, _really_ sorry." I finished.

"We have the same journals." He muttered looking at his and then at mine. I stared at him.

"Is that all you got from my little explanation slash apology?" I asked, bewildered.

"Oh, uh, no, of course not. Kurt if it was an accident than I'm not mad at you. It must have fallen out of my bag while I was leaving. I looked for it yesterday and thought I'd just forgotten to pack it. I'm kind of forgetful." He remarked, smiling at me lightly.

"You're not angry that I looked through it?"

"Well, if I had come across a journal that looked a lot like my own and found that someone had supposedly scribbled in it, I would have looked through it, too. I'm really not mad." He assured me. I nodded thoughtfully.

"Will you still be not mad if I ask you a question?" I hedged.

"Sure." He chirped.

"What happened that made you come to Dalton?"

* * *

**Okay, so I just felt like writing today, and I actually do keep a journal where I doodle, write entries, and scribble down lyrics and even whole songs. I also include some poetry in the back. I just started writing about that and turned it into a Klaine story! Most of the little facts at the beginning (like the hating cold fruit but despising warm applesauce) are actually based on me (couldn't resist). **

**Disclaimer: By the way, I should include that I do not own anything Glee related. I don't own Darren Criss (but Santa, I would most definitely like him under my tree this year; please and thank you) either. **

**If you would like a couple more chapters (I do have some ideas that stem beyond Blaine telling Kurt about his past) reply and tell me! Also, if you have any recommendations for future chapters, or even cute little scenes that you've dreamt up but don't have the time to write down, send them in the form of review and (if they're reasonable *raised eyebrow*) I'll include them in here!**

**Remember to review! Thanks and hope you enjoyed!**

**-forbiddengrace-**


	2. Confusion

Fourteen years old,

So full of pain.

Nothing to win,

And no way to gain.

I realized I didn't like girls when I was seven years old. I was in second grade, and in those days you chased the girl you liked around the playground, playing tag. I didn't like to chase after them, didn't see the reason behind it all. I was a pretty serious kid; all brown eyes, black hair, and unnaturally good voice. I thought at first that it was just that there were no girls at school that caught my eye, that someday there would be a girl that would join our class and that would be it; I would fall in love. But that year went by slowly and there were no new girls that caught my eye.

No new girls caught my eye, but one of the three new kids we got that year, who just happened to be a cute, rather tall, blonde haired, and grey eyed boy. He was three inches taller than me, which was a lot taller back then, and I was in love with him. At least, I thought I was. I mean, no seven year old knows if they're in love or not. I just liked him a lot, and he liked me, just as a friend. We played together after school, watched movies on the weekend, had sleepovers, shared crayons at school, ate lunch together, and did all the other regular seven year old little boy things. We watched Toy Story every other week because that was our favorite movie. His name was Adam.

He made me realize that I was gay. Well, okay I didn't know it had a name for it, but I liked boys, not girls. I was so confused and alone and scared for the next four years of my life that I almost completely lost myself. I didn't tell my parents, I didn't tell my friends, and I didn't even really want to admit it to myself because it was _unnatural_. That word haunted me throughout my life, still does, in fact.

Everywhere I went, it was unnatural this, unnatural that, unnatural gays, unnatural voice, unnatural curly hair, unnatural politeness. Of course, the unnatural gay part hadn't been directed at _me_ yet, because there really weren't any big giveaways. I mean, I never admitted to having a crush, but I wasn't obsessed with dolls or anything. I played soccer; I hung out with my dad, and went fishing with Grandpa. I _did_ have an odd fondness for Disney, but nothing major.

So, you see, no one really caught on until I was older; twelve, to be exact. I was in seventh grade by then, and the word of the year was gay.

'That movie was so _gay_.'

'That test was so _gay_.'

'He's the _gayest_ teacher ever.'

'Did you see his pants? They're so _gay_.'

Finally, during February of that year, I couldn't stand it any longer, so I went to my mother and questioned her.

"Mom?" I asked, slowly and methodically peeling potatoes for dinner that night. She 'mmmhmmm?'ed at me from where she was cutting up chicken to bake.

"Why is being gay so wrong?" I asked quietly. "I mean, I hear people say it all the time at school, and Father Brooks says that gays should go to Hell because they're on the wrong path in life and they're going to contaminate the Earth, but I don't get what's so wrong about a guy loving a guy." My innocent, child eyes were searching her face for lost answers. "Love is love, right?" I finished timidly, feeling my neck burn.

She sighed quietly and mumbled something about how she 'knew this conversation was coming'. Then, she stuck the pan of chicken in the over, turned the timer on, washed her hands, and joined me to peel potatoes.

"Blaine", she began gently, "there's nothing wrong with being gay. I know you hear all those bad things at school and at church, which is one of the reasons I don't want to go to that church anymore, but sweetie, most of the world just doesn't understand. The way the world and the human race have evolved has taught them that a man and a woman are supposed to love each other and make babies to continue the world. A man and a man can't have children together, and they've grown up thinking that because of that and other things, it means that being gay is wrong."

"But Mom", I protested, "There are hundreds of babies all over the world who don't have parents. Can't gays just adopt those babies?"

"Honey, there's a lot more to it than just that. But that's one of the simplest answers." My mother told me gently.

"Like…." I swallowed hard, "someone said something the other day about gays. One of the high schoolers on my afternoon bus. He said that gays like to….. take it up the butt. Is that why they don't like gays? Because of that? And how, how is that… how… I just don't understand!" I blurted.

Mom looked stunned. "Children on your bus say those sorts of things?" She gasped. I nodded quickly.

"I still don't understand, Mom." I muttered as she got up and went to the phone.

"In a minute, Blaine." She assured me.

That was the last day I rode the bus. Either Mom or Dad took me to and from school from then on.

* * *

I came out when I was thirteen. I told my parents first, and they said they had known since I was ten. I told my two best friends after that, and they were less than understanding. They shunned me, called me names, and point blank refused to associate with 'my kind'.

I held on though. I didn't give up, I didn't tell my parents, and I didn't let it get to me. At least I tried not to.

I _tried_ to ignore the empty feeling I got in the pit of my stomach when I saw that someone had written on my locker:

**you're better off dead, FAG!**

I _tried_ not to lock myself in a bathroom stall and sob after receiving a note that told me that I would be saving my family the pain of having a gay son if I just killed myself.

I _tried_ not to look at the bruises that formed after being shoved into walls, lockers, and doors over and over again.

And most of all, I _tried_ not to let the suffocating loneliness get to me.

I failed.

* * *

I was fourteen and a half, and was walking to the park at dusk. It was springtime, early April, and there was fog dusting the ground here and there. The sky was a stormy grey and it was relatively chilly out.

I arrived at the park to find that my favorite thinking spot, the swings on the west side of the quaint little couple of acres of grassy land, had been taken by my main group of tormentors. I had started high school last September, and with it came a whole new territory. The older students _hated_ me. Hated who I was, hated how I was, and hated what I was. I didn't understand then, still don't understand now, why they approached me. But they did. They all laughed and jostled each other, pointing at me and winking.

"Hey, fag." One of them, a large junior by the name of Richard, sneered. "Going out hunting for regular guys to turn over to your side?" The four other boys that followed him like ducks laughed obnoxiously at the lame jab.

"No." I muttered. "Just walking. You know, getting some exercise."

"Well, this is our park and gays are not welcome here, so why don't you leave and never come back." Richard snapped.

"This is public property." I protested instantly. "I can go wherever I want to."

There was instantly an evil glint in Richard's eyes and I knew I had screwed up bad. These guys had been itching for a reason to beat me up ever since they found out about my sexual orientation, and I just gave it to them.

The only thing I remember from that beating is a kick that sent me to knees, and then a foot against my chest, preventing me from breathing.

* * *

I woke up in the hospital five days later, where they told me that I had a broken wrist, six broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a concussion that should have knocked me out for at least another day. I was 'lucky' they told me.

Mom and Dad told me that they had transferred me to Dalton the week after I woke up, and that as soon as I was better, I would be attending that school. I didn't try to fight them.

* * *

"So, Kurt." I sighed. "Now you know my story."

He stared at me for a minute and then stood up, sat down next to me, and hugged me tightly. We slept in the same bed that night, both of us falling asleep with tears still trailing down our faces. We fell asleep wrapped against each other, his arms around me, his head pressed against the back of mine, my back against his chest, and our day clothing still clinging to us. We fell asleep as just friends.

* * *

**Okay, so that was different. I don't know if I'm totally satisfied with this chapter; I feel like maybe it should have at least a tiny bit more detail, but maybe I'm just being a perfectionist as usual. **

**I would like to say thank you so much to the people that favorited or followed either me or this story! I was so, so surprised when I got home from school to find that I had twenty four new emails over night. So thanks so much! **

**I'd love it if I could get some feedback for this chapter, so please review! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. I do own that nice little do-hickey up on top that seemed to just pop into my head, though. **

**Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!**

**Oh, if you have any Klaine moments that you want to see, let me know in a review! I take (reasonable) requests. **

**-forbiddengrace-**


End file.
